Lusting After Layla

by Theresa Paolo

  “If we go to the festival together then we’re basically declaring we’re in a relationship,” she said.

  “Then what are we waiting for?”

  She took his face between her hands, the rough hairs of his beard flattening against her palms, and she kissed him sweetly. “Okay. Let’s go.”

  Chapter 10

  In all the time Declan had lived in Red Maple Falls, he had never once gone to the festival. He was grateful for the customers it brought to Calhoun’s, but he left the hay rides, corn mazes, and pie eating to them. Layla needed a fun day out, though, and the Fall Festival was the only thing he could think of. There was a bit of a smile on her face when he’d first suggested it, even though she tried to turn it down immediately, and as they pulled up to Basil Hill Farms and he brought the bike to a stop, that smile reappeared. He knew, without a doubt, he’d made a good choice.

  Declan got off the bike then helped Layla down, holding onto her longer than he had to. She ran her fingers through her hair, fixing the windblown strands. “Better?” she asked.

  “I liked it messy,” he said.

  “I’m sure you did.”

  They followed the pumpkin lined driveway out of the large plot of land that had been roped off into a makeshift parking lot and headed into the festival. They passed an old wagon filled with pumpkins and a sign that said “Welcome to Our Annual Fall Festival.”

  Jonathon Hayes, the farm’s owner, drove by on a tractor pulling a wagon filled with hay. He gave them a wave as he passed. “Welcome!” he said. “Need a lift?”

  Layla looked at Declan with a childish glint in her eye.

  “That’d be great,” Declan said, holding his hand out and helping Layla into the wagon. His eyes dropped to her ass, the jeans molding around it as she climbed up. She sat down on a haystack, and he took his attention away from her backside and sat across from her. He didn’t know if she was ready to put anything on display, so he kept a safe distance, letting her be the one to make the decision.

  “Happy to see you two come out,” Jon said. “We have a lot of great stuff this year for you to check out. The corn maze is our biggest ever. All my boys spent months planning it.”

  “We’ll definitely check it out,” Declan said.

  Jon brought the tractor to a stop at the entrance. “Here we are.” Haystacks were piled on either side, decorated with scarecrows, pumpkins, and mums. Declan hopped out and grabbed Layla’s waist as she jumped down.

  They rounded the wagon, and Declan shook Jon’s hand. “Thanks for the ride.”

  He tugged on his hat. “You two enjoy yourselves.” With a wave, he pulled away, and Declan turned toward the entrance. Tables and booths were set up down the entrance path, advertising everything from homemade soaps to face painting. A sign with arrows told them where to find the corn maze, the bouncy house, Basil Hills farmers market, pumpkin picking, carnival games, and pony rides.

  Declan knew the festival was a huge draw for the town, but seeing the extent of it in person blew his mind. He’d always admired the entire Hayes family, but seeing this setup, knowing how they had to have broken their asses to get this up and going, gave him a whole new appreciation for them. He was happy he finally came.

  “Oh!” Layla said, tugging on his arm and pointing toward a booth. “You should totally get your face painted.

  “No.”

  “Oh, come on. I think you would look adorable with a bat drawn across your eyes. Or a big ol’ pumpkin.”

  He tugged on his beard. “I think this would get in the way.”

  “I’m sure they could work around it.” She winked at him, and he swallowed down the desire to scoop her up and carry her off to the privacy of the woods at the far end of the property so he could show her exactly what that wink did to him.

  Today wasn’t about sex—tonight was a different story—but today was about showing Layla a good time so she could clear her mind, forget about all the bullshit, and focus on the good stuff.

  “Have you been before?” He couldn’t remember her ever bringing it up, or maybe she had and at the time he didn’t think it was of any significance and forgot.

  A somber smile fell on her face then quickly turned joyful. “My mom used to take us when we were kids. Jax and I loved the corn maze. We’d bet each other on who would make it out first.”

  “What was the prize?” he asked.

  The smile turned bashful then filled with humor. “Corn on the cob.”

  Declan laughed. “High stakes.”

  “They were! There is nothing better than fresh corn on the cob straight off the grill.”

  “My dad used to make them like that,” he admitted. His dad wasn’t the greatest person in the world, but he had been a decent father. Not that Declan had any great examples to compare him to.

  “You never talk about your dad.”

  “Not much to talk about.”

  “I’m sure he was better than mine. A grizzly bear who will eat his own young is better than my so-called father.”

  His old man never used him for his own personal gain like Layla’s dad. If anything, he had been trying to mold him to take over his place as president of the motorcycle club, but Declan never wanted that. He wanted a chance to figure his own life out without the pressure of following in his old man’s footsteps. Despite what his dad believed, he wasn’t cut out for the life of crime that his dad lived. But his dad still watched out for him, kept a roof over his head, fed him, and did the best he could.

  “I guess he was better than a grizzly bear.” Declan tugged at his beard as he took a deep breath and avoided tripping over a toddler with a stick of cotton candy bigger than she was.

  “Tell me something about him.”

  What was Declan supposed to say? The truth? That his old man was a ruthless leader of a motorcycle club and he and the club stole luxury cars, chopped them up, then sold the parts for huge profits. That he wanted Declan to take over for him and follow in his footsteps. Not exactly father of the year material.

  “Not much to tell. He was a typical guy. Liked his motorcycles, his beer, and his woman.”

  “I can see you take after him.”

  Declan came to a sudden halt, and Layla stopped a few seconds later. She turned, confusion in her eyes.

  Declan forced down the rush of animosity and took a soothing breath before letting himself speak. “Other than the bikes and beer, I’m nothing like my old man. Not to mention, he liked shit beer, so I didn’t get my taste from him.”

  “Okay,” she said and looked at him, waiting for him to start walking again. “I’m guessing your relationship was complicated?” Layla asked as they passed the face painting booth.

  That was an understatement and a half. “You could say that.”

  “Do you still talk to him?”

  “He’s dead.”

  Layla rested her hand on his arm. “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be. It was his own fault.”

  Her eyebrows knitted together, and though she didn’t ask what he meant, he knew she was hoping for an explanation.

  “He messed with the wrong people and got himself killed.”

  Her eyes widened, and her hand moved slowly to her mouth. “He was murdered?”

  Declan nodded.

  “Oh my God. That must’ve been really hard for you. How old were you?”

  “Sixteen.”

  “And you said your mom died of a drug overdose?”

  He nodded again.

  “And here I thought I had the most depressing life story. You might actually take the cake,” she said, adding a smile to her words and making him appreciate her even more. He loved how she didn’t necessarily dwell on the sad and how she could find humor in the shittiest of situations.

  This day was for Layla, and he refused to let thoughts of his past destroy it. Needing to change the subject, his mind fixated on the last word she spoke. “I like funfetti,” he said.

  She stopped walking and pushed her hand out ag
ainst his chest. “Wait a minute. Funfetti? Really?”

  “It’s delicious.”

  “I’m not denying that, but it’s so colorful and fun and well—”

  “I’m none of those things.”

  She held her hands up an adorable smile on her lush lips. “I didn’t say it.”

  “Oh, but you were implying it.”

  She held her thumb and forefinger up centimeters apart. “Maybe a little.”

  “What can I say? I like my funfetti with vanilla frosting.”

  “You don’t seem like a vanilla guy to me either.”

  He arched an eyebrow as he remembered her vanilla scent wrapping around him. “I can’t resist it,” he said.

  “Funny because I wear—”

  “I know.” He leaned toward her ear. His lips brushed against her lobe ever so gently. “It’s why I find you irresistible.”

  “Is that so?” She moved closer, and he rested his hand on her waist. Her head tilted up and her bottom lip practically begged for his attention. He moved his head, ready to sweep her up in a kiss that would make her knees weak when he heard a familiar voice just behind them.

  “Layla, Declan… Is that you?” He closed his eyes in disappointment and stepped back.

  “Hi, Terry,” Layla said.

  Terry teetered toward them in red heels that gave her a good five inches. She must’ve changed since she’d stopped by this morning. Her black pants and leather top stood out like a sore thumb amongst the crowd that mainly consisted of jeans and flannels.

  Terry waved as she moved closer, Betty Hayes keeping pace beside her. “I thought that was you two,” Terry said as they approached.

  “It’s us,” Layla said. Her attention immediately went on Betty who was a woman who looked good for her eighty years and still moved like she was twenty years younger. “It’s good to see you, Betty. How have you been?”

  “Haven’t felt better,” she said.

  Betty Hayes’ white hair was cut short yet stylish, and from what Mason had said, she still helped on the farm, carrying feed and cleaning out the chicken coop.

  “I don’t know if you know this,” Layla said, turning to look at him. “But I was Betty’s nurse when she was recovering from a broken hip.”

  “Damn black ice took me right out. But let me tell you, this girl right here is the best damn nurse this town has ever seen. She helped get me back on my feet and dancing again.”

  “You’re too kind,” Layla said.

  “I wouldn’t doubt it for a second,” Declan said.

  “It has nothing to do with the fact that Betty here is a freak. Seriously, toughest woman I know.”

  “What she means to say is stubborn,” Betty said.

  Terry nodded. “You got that right!”

  Betty waved her finger between Declan and Layla. “And aren’t you two just the cutest couple I’ve ever seen.”

  Betty Hayes was infamous for playing cupid to her grandkids, and since she was out of single grandchildren, Declan wouldn’t be surprised if she was scouring the streets for more lives to interfere with.

  “Oh, but they’re not a couple,” Terry said. “Just sleeping together.”

  Declan nearly choked on his own saliva.

  “Terry, I told you he brought me home last night and that was it.”

  “That was this morning. This afternoon you have sex glow.”

  Layla put a hand to her face. “I do not.”

  Terry looked at Betty, and the two shrugged and shook their heads.

  Declan tried not to laugh, but these two were out there, even for him. He appreciated straight forward people, and you couldn’t get more straightforward than Terry and Betty.

  “You might not believe we haven’t had sex,” Declan said. “But can you believe I got this one to play hooky from work?”

  Terry gasped and slapped a hand over her chest. “It’s a Fall Festival miracle!”

  Layla rolled her eyes. “I thought I could use a day.”

  Terry’s face turned serious, and she took Layla’s hand. “How you holding up, sweetie? I saw the news this morning.”

  “I’m okay.”

  “I would love to be in a room with that man for five minutes. I would make him sorry for ever existing,” Terry said, and Declan appreciated her feisty candor. “You know I’m here whenever you need me.”

  Layla hugged Terry. “Thank you.” She turned her attention to Declan and smiled. “But I have Declan now.”

  The declaration might have seemed a miniscule thing to anyone else, but Declan knew Layla saying those words to Terry with Betty Hayes as witnesses was letting the town know they were officially together, and he was okay with that. More than okay. He was fucking thrilled.

  He draped his arm over Layla’s shoulder and held her close. Her hand landed on his chest in a claiming gesture that did things to his insides.

  “I got her back,” he said.

  Betty Hayes clapped her hands together. “My granddaughter told me not to set you up with anyone because you would find someone on your own and oh! I’m just so happy for you.”

  “Thanks, Betty.”

  “And you!” Betty turned a menacing finger on him. “You take care of her. She’s a good girl.”

  “I plan on it.” He would protect her till his dying breath.

  Betty closed her eyes and took a big whiff. “Do you smell that, Terry?”

  “All I smell is horse shit right now.”

  Betty rolled her eyes. “No, you idiot. Love. Love is in the air.”

  “I’m pretty sure it’s shit.”

  “Oh, for Pete’s sakes. What am I going to do with you?”

  “For starters, you can get me away from this section. The downwind is killing me. My eyes are watering over here, and I’m going to mess up my mascara.”

  “We’ll leave you two on your way,” Betty said. “Before this one’s face melts off.”

  “Excuse me, I am all natural,” Terry said.

  Betty nodded, unconvinced. “Uh huh. Now let’s go before these two realize we’re crazy and have us committed.”

  “Speak for yourself,” Terry said, lifting her head, her red hair staying perfectly in place with the motion. She then pointed at them with her red nail. “You better stop by the pie booth and vote for my pie. Shay is coming for my title, and I will not go down without a fight.”

  “Everyone knows you have the best pie in the state,” Layla said, and Terry’s face lit up like the sky on the Fourth of July. “I know, but I’d like proof anyway.”

  “We’ll stop by and vote,” Layla said.

  “Good, now go on and have a good time. And Declan?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “You better show our girl the right way to play hooky.”

  “You got it.”

  Terry and Betty headed off into the growing crowd, and Declan turned back to Layla who was worrying her bottom lip.

  “What’s going on in that head of yours?” he asked, brushing his finger across her mouth.

  “I totally declared us as a couple without talking to you first.”

  “We’re here, aren’t we?” He already knew what would happen if they came to the festival together, and he was the one who insisted they go. He didn’t care who knew. He was ready to tell everyone that Layla was his girl.

  “Yeah, but—”

  He placed his finger on her lips. “No buts. I’m happy to be with you, baby girl.”

  A smile spread from ear to ear, and she lifted on tip toes, pressing her mouth to his. “I’m happy to be with you, too. Now let’s go get some pie.”

  Chapter 11

  The bell above the door chimed, and Declan was about to tell the person they were closed when he looked up and stared right into the eyes of his past. At one time, the man in front of him he’d considered a brother, someone he would take a bullet for, but that was before he found out he was a lying sack of shit who nearly got him killed.

  “Long time, Luke,” O’Reilly said, a
smug look on his clean-shaven face. He imagined his lack of beard was a requirement of the job, but at least he knew he wasn’t undercover, trying to infiltrate a motorcycle club.

  “Not long enough,” he growled. Hearing his real name was like a punch to his gut. No one here knew him as Luke. They knew him by his middle name, and as far as he was concerned Luke was already dead.

  “And here I thought you’d be happy to see me.”

  “Why the hell would I be happy to see you?” Their relationship was as complicated as anything and for him to show up out of the blue… “If you’re here it only means that something’s up.”

  O’Reilly snapped his fingers together then aimed his index at Declan. “You always were a swift one.”

  “Why not call? What if you got tailed?” Old habits kicked into overdrive. Declan glanced out the windows, searching the tree lines for any movement. His eye scanned over the two cars in the parking lot, making a thorough inspection of the ground around it. No shadows appeared, but that didn’t mean someone wasn’t there watching, waiting.

  O’Reilly plopped onto a stool and rested his hands on the bar top. “I didn’t get tailed.”

  With one last glance to the surrounding area, Declan pulled the blinds. “How the hell do you know that?”

  “Can you give me a little credit for fuck’s sake?”

  “No, I can’t. The last time I gave you credit, I had a goddamn blade held to my face.”

  O’Reilly shrugged with indifference. “I got you out of it, though.”

  “Not before they butchered me.” He jabbed a finger at the scar cutting across his face.

  “If you ask me, they did you a favor.”

  “Fuck you. What the hell do you want?”

  O’Reilly didn’t say anything for a long moment. “We were friends once. Some would even say brothers.”

  “No, we weren’t. You lied to get information out of me and then you betrayed me. I wouldn’t call that friendship or brotherhood.”

  A distant looked filled O’Reilly’s green eyes. He ran a hand through his dark auburn hair that coined him the nickname Ginge in the club. “It all became too real,” he said. “The lines I had mentally drawn in the sand blurred, and I forgot I was a cop. I stopped looking at you as a criminal I needed to take down and started looking at you as my friend, my brother. You weren’t like the rest.”